Jets in the Treetops

Living near the airport as we do, I am able to see jets every time I ride.

A virtually unlimited supply of airplanes!



But they are not always as closely spaced, or as low to the ground as I have seen today. Usually they are taking off OVER the house, so they are heading west. But when the wind shifts, they land over our house. Which means they are much lower.

Here are some examples I saw on my ride:

I was all set to get a really close shot of one plane, when my phone rang - and the camera disappeared (an unexpected hazard of multi-tasking devices).

I waited 2-3 minutes, and by golly, the airport had turned things around and now they are taking off the usual way.

Is it the upcoming 4th of July weekend that's resulted in this onslaught of aeronautical craft?

I've been working on catching these planes (period) and not thinking about focus or exposure. That means sometimes the photos work ...

and sometimes they don't.

I have to change gears now, and provide a few photos of jet in the palms (as opposed to the pines). Otherwise you might think I'm in an alpine forest somewhere, rather than a Mediterranean climate.

Well, here's proof of that near-tropical climate. I captured an aircraft and a hummingbird in flight, and a Cape Honeysuckle blossom, all at the same time.

I think I need to keep my mind on the bicycling, and stop looking up and taking pictures of planes. I'm bound to get run over, or burn out my eyeballs!

Shed and Fed, Part II

( Continued from yesterday )

We managed to finish the shed last night. And as a result my arms are so tired I can barely get them up to the keyboard. But it looks like a proper little house, doesn't it? 

It's the Lifetime Shed 60001, if you are interested. And it's plenty  big enough for about 6 singles and a tandem or two. Luckily we only have 3 singles so there's room for my bike stand too, I think. When I get the strength to carry it down there ...

The only trouble is it's 15 steps down the staircase to get the bike, and 15 steps up with the bike to ride. Then repeat when the ride is over. But I'm doing this for exercise, right? Or am I?

BTW, the cat seems happy enough with his new food selections.

So I rode out among the tractors and looked at their aggressive attachments. What a great job it must be (in theory) to have a yard full of cool machinery that you can bolt onto backhoes and things ...

 In practice I am sure it's dirty, hard work.

MUSTANG CONVERTIBLES

Yes, today I saw two M Cs. (For readers who are new, I see more of these than can you can imagine).

Shed and Fed, Part I

I went for a short ride today. The weather service was predicting the highest temperature of the year - as it turned out 94 was about the highest in the area. But it was swelteringly hot at my place - and I am working on assembling a shed. We decided to build it on our unused old brick patio.

But unused still   means "covered with debris" so that had to come out first.

I had to square and level the framework, and then build the shed's foundation.

Then I put on the plywood floor (all pressure-treated, rot- and termite-resistant lumber). And the plastic underlay floor for the shed.

In the middle of this project I had to stop and drink a quart or two of water. And flop on the couch for 10 minutes. Then, as I had promised my cat to get him some new food, I took out the bike and rode to the pet shop. There I got a handful of samples for future cat food purchases, and struggled up the big hill to my home.

Along the way I saw the sewer crew hard at work a few blocks away. I think they're going to be on schedule to get this whole project done by November.

They aren't bothering us much anymore, as they have moved off the "main drag" and onto another side street. Those residents are mightily inconvenienced, but they do have an alley to park in. As for me, I'm getting used to bike riding through totally-torn-up streets.

I got home after the ride, and fed Tiger. Then I went back to work on the shed. Unfortunately, I was so tired I could barely put up the walls. My arms are aching from hammering, and from carrying all the panels around, and then from screwing them into place.

But I succeeded. Tomorrow, the roof. What do you think? Does it look like a good home for the bicycles?

Mission Hills

If there was ever an appropriate name for a community, Mission Hills is it. The neighborhood lies south and east of the first Presidio and Mission in what is now called California. And it's hilly as can be.

An old neighborhood - with an old Nursery with old-style, make-it-yourself signage.

There are old cars lurking at the curb, such as this Saab, which illustrates the free-thinking, professorial tone of the community. In the driveway were two modern Porsche 911 convertibles, and a Range Rover sat in front of the house, behind the Saab.

I was briefly diverted by this tiny library which stood in front of a Craftsman-style house. It was a  LittleFreeLibrary that offers free books to passers-by. I checked out the selection and borrowed a book called The House of Mondavi.

This well-preserved, forward-control Dodge pickup implies that Mission Hills is not just a place for intellectuals, but there's room for working folk too.

There's definitely a flower-loving component of the population which isn't afraid to say (in color) they're free-thinkers.

There are canyons to the north.

And valleys to the west (along with the marine layer) beyond the Presidio golf course and Old Town.

I found the remains of a eucalyptus tree - the bike is on the tree stump so you can see its size.

I found a path of decomposed granite and dirt - a road that I'd never seen before - and decided to explore it. As my riding motto is "Come Home Alive" I walked the steep stretches. This is not a path that rewards getting even one wheel in the wrong place!

The cactus are all around, in grand profusion.

I saw two Mustang Convertibles but didn't take pictures. Sorry. You'll have to trust me today.

Nothing Yesterday, Not Much Today

I didn't ride or write yesterday. I went whale-chasing. And you can't ride out in the Pacific. No road!

We did visit the Coronado Islands. But you can't ride there either. No roads and only vertical dirt and rock. Besides, people are banned from the islands.

Which is just fine, in my opinion. We have given tiny North Island to the brown boobies, oystercatchers, spotted fur seals, sea lions and other animals who have lost the mainland to us.

In case you are wondering, we did see six blue whales; the largest animal ever to live on earth. They are breath-taking to observe. A statistics-minded person onboard our vessel said a single whale weighs the same as 30 elephants, and more than the entire NFL - all teams, all players!

I rode this morning instead. I went down alleyways and back roads. These alternative routes are mostly traffic-free, but they evoke in me a slight melancholia. The fronts of our homes are (mainly) nice looking, well groomed and painted. The backs - as seen from alleys and from trains passing by - are more often a mess. Unpainted, disheveled, piled high with dribs and drabs of dross. Unfinished projects. Projects not even started. A lot like us, I think.

A disadvantage of living in the same neighborhood for many years is the occasional feeling of "what if?" that comes over me at times. A decade or so ago, we put in a bid for a house on Zola, with a phenomenal view of the bay. But when the owners finally decided to accept an offer one early Sunday morning, they called our agent. He was in the shower and they got his answer machine. "Tough luck!", they said, then calling the agent of a rival bidder who'd offered the same price, was sitting near the phone, and who got the house. Alas, we could be living here.

One Way, or Not At All

I went riding early Sunday morning. This is a departure for me, as I'm usually at church on Sunday morning. But I went to a Saturday night service last night, and decided to ride before it got hot and sunny on one of the first days of summer.

I cruised by John Noble's shop - he's a native plant guy who helped redo our back yard 10 years ago.

I checked out his plants, then as I rode off, casually thought "No Mustang convertibles at this time of day; I won't have to bother looking for them driving by."

The title of this blog comes from the fact that I found myself on streets going the opposite direction of my normal route. You must have experienced the same thing - you go to the store one way, then return home using other streets (as a result of odd traffic signals, other errands, etc).

So I rode up the RV Canyon, a section of road I'd previously only ridden down. I stopped to look at some locks fastened to the chain link fence and watched a policeman try to stop (with lights flashing) an inattentive motorist.

Next, I went onto a street I'd never visited, then back across Catalina and up a one-way street (the wrong way) because there were no cars out. It's an old odd little pocket of streets reaching down into a funny canyon. The density of houses, apartments, shacks, dead cars, etc. on Whittier and Banning is astonishing. This street had formerly been a very heavily-traveled route, but the traffic was diverted about 20 years ago and now it's a backwater dead-end and the traffic passes it by.

A  few blocks away, I saw that a long-vacant lot had been turned into an organic garden farm, complete with compost heaps, chicken coops, and above-ground beds.

MUSTANG CONVERTIBLES

I saw an unbelievable number of M Cs sitting around, waiting for their owners to get up and take them out for a sunny Sunday spin.